


In Return For The Night Shift

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank and Logan have issues with sleeping when a storm rolls around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Return For The Night Shift

"Hank."

He is so tired. God, he is tired; the thunderstorm had raged for most of the night, loud and ringing in his ears, but usually those things he can sleep through. The rain is calming enough, after all, and he has black-out curtains that allow him solace from the constant flashes, but the thunder had left him restless, waking him up every now and then.

"Hank."

And that hadn’t been the end of it, either. He often enough is woken by some of the children - the younger ones, especially, those aged eleven or younger, away from home and a little scared. The youngest are six and seven, and those ones are orphans, usually; their wards, left without parents for reasons of mutancy or otherwise.

He had had twelve young children enter his bedroom over the course of the night, tentatively shaking him awake and mumbling, “Doctor McCoy, I’m scared.” and what could he say to that? He couldn’t turn the young things away, could he? And so he’d taken each of them aside for a little while, spoken softly and told a few stories one after the other, and given a lot of hugs.

And then he had gone back to bed for twenty minutes, half an hour, before another one came and woke him up.

"Hank."

"Charles, fuck off." It's in an exhausted, sharp deadpan, and is met with as much surprise as Hank had expected it to be.

" _Hank_!" He sounds absolutely incredulous; in fairness to him, Henry McCoy is not a man tended towards profanity. But he is so tired, and he doesn’t have any classes to teach today. He opens his eyes and looks up at Xavier tiredly, eyes dulled. He doesn’t have the dark circles under his eyes he might have before injecting himself with Mystique’s DNA, but it will be obvious to even the younger children that he is exhausted.

Charles looks at him, and he doesn’t say anything: Hank sighs.

"What is it?"

"The storm slammed a few trees down; we’d really need some stre-" Charles is trying to be warm, convincing. He’s trying to charm Hank out of bed, and it is not going to happen.

"Ask Logan."

"Hank." Charles is regarding him seriously, tiredly. Not as tired as Hank is. "Don't be so ridiculous."

"Or Jean."

"Hank, come now."

"Charles." Xavier looks at him for a few moments, looking through him, in him, and Hank doesn’t look away or kick up a fuss about it. He’ll be dangerous trying to work without any sleep, after all - superstrength though he might have, it’s a conscious effort to use it, and he doesn’t want to risk issues around the children. Charles’ face softens a little.

"Oh. How much sleep do you think you did have?"

"Two hours, maybe, spread out."

Charles presses his lips together for a few moments, but then he inclines his head. “I’ll tell them all to leave you be.” Hank lets out a soft noise, distinctly grateful, and drops his head to the pillow again. He hears the door click shut and hums into the pillow, letting himself drift off again.

He knows it must be early morning by now; the storm has finished, but everyone is up and moving outside. He can hear some of the children laughing outside, hear Storm giving tasks to them, and he can hear Logan yelling to some of the kids - coordinating the movement of something or other.

Hearing Logan makes Hank feel a little guilty; Logan has the same sensitive hearing, and as many of the children probably went to him. Why it is that they find him so comforting, Hank isn’t so certain - he doesn’t get why they like him, personally. It has something to do, at least, with where their bedrooms are, the closest to the children’s, but otherwise? Hank has no idea what might make him comforting to the children.

He is like a blue teddy bear, perhaps.

He starts to doze off again, hearing the noise outside in a vague fashion, disconnected. He doesn’t realize one of them has come back inside until his door’s opened.

"Hank." It’s a quiet, grumbled greeting; Logan isn’t exactly known for his cheer.

"Mm." Hank doesn’t comment as Logan drops on the bed next to him - it’s a double bed, after all, and Hank snorts.

"Kids?"

"Ten of ‘em. And that damn storm-"

"So loud."

"The loudest in years. Prof told the kids not to come get ya."

"Capitalizing on that?"

"Uh-huh." Hank hums, dropping his face to his own pillow again, and goes to sleep. Logan sleeps on his side, facing away from the other man. It’s not until three thirty that Hank wakes up, glancing to the side to see Logan with his mouth open, his eyes closed.

“Logan.”

“I ain’t moving, bub.” Hank snorts, dropping his head back onto the bed.

“Nor am I. Just want you to pass me my glass of water.” Logan opens one eye, glancing to the side and seeing the glass on the sidetable.

“Oh. Sure.” Hank sips at it and lies back down, rubbing at his own eyes. “When you gettin’ up?”

“Not for an ungodly length of time.” A snort comes from the other mutant’s mouth.

“Sounds good to me, man.”


End file.
